


better than alone

by mermaidhanji



Series: Gwenoden, Roslin, Ishnah [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Aggressive Hawke, Canon-Typical Violence, Elf-Blooded Hawke (Dragon Age), F/F, Jewish Character, Red Hawke, jewish elves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 02:09:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15184442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mermaidhanji/pseuds/mermaidhanji
Summary: Merrill supports the Hawkes in the wake of Leandra's death.





	better than alone

**Author's Note:**

> GOD FINALLY IM POSTING ONE OF MY DRAGON AGE FICS DKJHGJFNF anyway i just finished act 2 with roslin hawke the other day and then slammed this out so why not post it
> 
> ur local high fantasy jewish gay is here to remind y'all that dragon age elves are jewish (among other minorities lol) i just wanted to think abt the hawke sisters doing their best to sit shiva together while bethy is in the circle and merrill helps. also any elvish in my stuff other than words we learned from canon are from the AMAZING project elvhen by FenxShiral here on ao3.
> 
> i just tagged with canon-typical violence cause roslin gets a tad graphic describing the state she found leandra in but. we all played the game we know what happened but just thought i'd warn for it. be safe y'all

_"Ir abelas, ma vhenan."_ Merrill stepped into their bedroom, but Roslin couldn't find the will to look up at her; she could only stare into the fire.

"There's nothing to say right now." Roslin hated how small she sounded.

"Oh." Merrill paused, and Roslin's heart plunged further down. Curse her abrasiveness. "Okay. I'll just... go then."

Roslin hung her head, and she hoped it hid the crumbling of her expression. Why push Merrill away? With her eyes screwed shut and her head in a cloud of death, she didn't hear Merrill's footsteps stop, nor turn back to her. Her breath hitched when Merrill threw her arms around her.

"Oh, _vhenan."_ Merrill tucked Roslin's hair behind her ear, and she wanted to hide, but something in her heart screamed for Merrill, for Bethany, for her mother. "I can go if you want me to." Merrill was so gentle it hurt. "But I can stay, too."

Roslin's lip trembled, and she pressed her hands over her eyes. She hated this. She hated anyone seeing her like this, but the thought of being alone made her want to collapse like wreckage.

"Do you want me to stay?" Merrill held her tight, strong and grounding. Roslin nodded. "Then I will."

A small sob escaped her, and then tears were trailing past her hands, and she couldn't stop—she simply cried, hunched like a dying woman. Merrill drew her love to her chest, stroking red hair while Roslin whimpered.

"I know it hurts," Merrill whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "It's okay to hurt. I'm here for you, no matter what."

Roslin wrapped her arms around Merrill's waist and bawled.

 

* * *

 

"Damned templars. Wish they'd hurry it up already," Gamlen grumbled. For once, Roslin found herself agreeing with him. She stood against the wall opposite a wrought iron gate in the Gallows, arms crossed. Beside her, Merrill bounced on the balls of her feet, a basket hanging from the crook of her elbow. The dog sat patiently while Gamlen paced, watching him go back and forth. Roslin was sure she looked positively murderous waiting there, and she was; it wasn't easy to visit a mage in the Circle on your own, let alone with two others and a warhound, but she would knife the next templar to deny her _shiva_ with Bethany.

Her eye caught the scrap of black fabric tied around her wrist. Tearing it apart had been satisfying, and she found... something profound in sharing the shreds with her uncle, wrapped about his own wrist. Bethy had ripped up her own. Roslin's heart hurt, thinking of her little sister all alone in her grief, but at least she wasn't there to see Leandra go. The memory of her mother's head on a patchwork body haunted her every moment.

She felt Merrill's slender hand on her shoulder, and she sighed, reaching up and twining their fingers together. Her mabari whined worriedly at her feet.

Finally, a door to the side opened, and she looked up to see Knight-Captain Cullen striding towards her. Roslin glared.

"Serah Hawke," Cullen greeted curtly.

"Your templars won't let me see my sister," she snapped back.

"Right, straight to business, then..." Cullen sighed, and rubbed his forehead. Roslin was ready to wring his neck til that ugly little head popped off. "I _would_ just tell you the same thing, but it seems you won't take no for an answer."

Roslin sneered. "You're right, I won't."

"Look, nobility and coin can only bring you so far. A single visitor once in a blue moon is already more than most get. I can't reasonably—"

"You can, and you will." Roslin got in his face, and her lip curled back.

Cullen frowned in distaste. "To let three of you—" The dog growled menacingly behind her. "Four of you in for some heathen ritual—"

"It's not some dark magic bullshit, it's a mourning practice for my mother!" She shouted, and Cullen stepped back in alarm. "I found her head sewn to parts of other women like she was a rag doll! She shambled into my arms and died there!"

"Oh Maker," she heard Gamlen murmur in horror.

"I want to grieve with my sister, and some little _runt_ won't stand in my way!"

Cullen looked a tad sick, but recovered quickly. "I am—sorry for your loss, I am." His look darkened in a way that made Roslin want to spit at him. "But I will not stand threats, serah."

"Neither will I," she seethed.

The two stared off, Roslin boiling with anger. She would _not_ be turned aside by some fucking templar who thinks her family less than people.

Finally, Cullen relented. "Fine," he huffed, and marched up to the gate. "Open it up," Cullen called, and turned back to Roslin as the chains clanked. "You have one hour."

"An hour and a half."

"Maker," Cullen muttered. "Very well, but any longer and I'll have you all dragged off."

"I'd like to see you try," Roslin said under her breath, shouldering him none too gently as she passed. She didn't look back at his noise of protest, storming off as the gate opened.

"Nice work, girl." Gamlen caught up, with Merrill on her other side and the dog at their heels. "But I really didn't have to hear that."

"... Sorry." She glanced over, and rolled her eyes at Gamlen's shocked expression. "Yes, I apologized, you lout. Don't get used to it," she snapped, and continued on.

Merrill's hand slipped into hers, and the anger under her skin died down.

 

* * *

 

"Ros!" Bethany cried as they entered the chamber. Roslin met her halfway as they rushed to each other's arms, and she felt her shirt dampen with her sister's tears. Roslin held her tight and blinked hard. "I'm glad you're here, _asa'malin."_

Roslin didn't trust her voice, so she said nothing, only squeezed her sister before letting go. The mabari nudged Bethany's leg pitifully, and she kneeled down to give him a big hug and a good scratch; her tears were lovingly licked away, even as more fell. Bethany even embraced Gamlen, who awkwardly patted her back, though the soft sadness in his face belayed his feelings. Merrill's hand rested at Roslin's waist, and she leaned into the touch, swallowing the lump in her throat.

She knew her sister didn't exactly like Merrill, but Bethy's watery expression wasn't hostile as she turned to the elf. Merrill held out her hands in sympathy. _"Ir abelas,_ Bethany."

Bethany hesitated for just a moment, before taking Merrill's hands. It eased Roslin's pained heart: her two favourite girls in the world.

_"Ma serannas."_ Bethany sniffed.

Merrill smiled, sweet and sad. "Of course, _lethallan._ Someone has to take care of you all so you can grieve." She pulled away to set her basket on a nearby table. "I have everything here—I hope the tea and vegetables haven't gone cold. I won't be long with the mourner's prayer."

Roslin knew _shiva_ all too well. She remembered the first time: barely a woman, holding the twins in both arms as they cried for their father, gone to Falon'Din for guidance. At least they had neighbours in Lothering to care for them, then; even if they were mostly _shemlen,_ a number knew how to be a friend to a grieving family. They didn't have that for Carver, waiting until they had a roof over their heads in Kirkwall to sit for him, and hardly a soul in the city who cared. Somehow... Roslin felt they had even less, now. She sat heavily on the dusty ground, weighted by her sorrow.

Bethany followed, and if Gamlen was confused the first time he witnessed this, he was utterly lost taking part. "So, uh... do I... sit?" He shifted, unsure. Even her mabari slumped down, whining with his head in Bethany's lap.

"Sit." Bethany gestured to the floor next to her, and Gamlen slowly got to the ground. "I didn't think you would want to sit _shiva_ with us, uncle," she admitted softly.

"Yes, well..." Gamlen sucked in a breath though his teeth, and swallowed. Despite being—well, Gamlen—something still twisted deep in her stomach at the sight of him trying not to cry. "Elf thing or not, you two—you're the only family I have left. May as well... I don't know... take part, if I'm welcome."

Bethany reached over and patted his hand with a small smile. He tried somewhat to wrangle a sad smile in return, but he mostly looked constipated.

"It's better to be here than alone, even if we only have a short time," Merrill agreed, fetching a stool and sitting. _"Shiva_... it's meant to mirror the way we're naturally inclined to mourn. Death is a trying thing to process, but together—with family, and community—it can be easier to bear. And that's where I come in." She smiled. "I am... honoured to be here with you all. _Ma serannas,_ for allowing me in."

Roslin wiped her eyes. _You are my family too, Merrill,_ she wanted to say, but decided to save it for private.

"I can't begin to imagine the pain you all must be feeling." Merrill's voice was just above a whisper. "And it's hard to see the good things in the world through that. It can make you feel like..." She chewed her lip. "Like a ghost." It was said knowingly. Roslin  _has_ been a ghost, hasn't she? Guilt ached in her for Merrill to see that, yet her lover continued, brave and tender as always. "But death is part of the cycle of life. Leandra is guided to another place, but we are still here. We are still living. And our memories of her will be a blessing upon the world." Merrill's eyes glimmered with hope and unshed tears, and she smiled through it, genuine and brighter than the sun. "Even through something as sad as death, life continues, and grows anew upon bones of the past. So with the mourner's prayer, we celebrate Leandra's life."

The familiar words washed over her, both in Elvish and Common, and Roslin's tears were bittersweet.


End file.
